Page 34 of Our Radiant Embers

He shot me a look tinged with cynicism. “Not exactly a regular at gay bars, am I? And women still want guys to buy them drinks, not the other way around.”

Yeah, that made sense. It also made me wonder about what else he’d missed while I’d enjoyed the freedom of being out and proud at university. Not just sex—that too—but flirting, catching someone’s appreciative glance and responding in kind. I could count my short-lived relationships on two fingers because hiding the whole magic thing wasn’t conducive to building trust, but I’d gone on a good number of dates. It had been nice.

When had I last gone on a date?

But that was not the point. No, the point was that no one had ever bought Adam a drink, and for all that I’d have sworn I disliked him up until that garden walk two days ago…Well, that just didn’t seem right.

“Let me fix that,” I told him. “Not gender expectations—afraid I’m quite powerless in that respect—but the other thing. Let me buy you a drink, even if it’s just as, you know...” Um. Friends? No. Mates? “Even if it’s just as business partners.”

Adam dipped his head, waiting until a tourist group and their loudly chattering guide had passed before he responded. “You know you don’t have to, right?”

“I know. I want to.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely confused, and I wasn’t sure why it made my stomach give an unpleasant twist.

“Because it pains me to admit it, but I couldn’t have done this without you.”

His face brightened, like flicking on a stadium-level group of spotlights. “Damn right.”

I bit my cheek to hold back a smile. “Don’t ruin it.”

“No, seriously—a compliment from you is like a four-leaf clover. I’ve got to milk this while it lasts.” He leaned forward to send me a coy glance, the faint indentation of a dimple pressing into his cheek. “What else?”

The smile won.

“Upon closer inspection,” I said, “you’re not half-bad—and I don’t mean that in a sexual way.” Although that, too. But I had better ditch any notions of a repeat arrangement since Adam couldn’t offer anything real, and I was no one’s secret.

“Like an acquired taste?” he suggested.

“Yeah. And not for the faint of heart.”

“Oh, I know this one!” He snapped his fingers. “What is black pudding?”

I hit an invisible buzzer. “Wrong. Because the actual answer is haggis.”

“And me, apparently.” The words came without the edge of irritation they might have held a week ago. It was still Adam—classically handsome and clad in a suit designed to accentuate his wealth and privilege. But maybe I saw him more clearly now.

Didn’t mean I was ready to admit that I’d been wrong.

“Listen, imposter.” I shook my head in mock disapproval. “This has been fun. But where did you leave the real Adam Harrington? Because I remember him being kind of”—a self-important prick—”obnoxious.”

Adam took a second to study me, then his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “I activate him as needed. And let’s just agree that you’re not always the nicest guy either.”

Yeah, that was valid.

“Good boys go to heaven,” I said. “Bad boys go everywhere.”

The other side of Adam’s mouth lifted. “I thought they bring heaven to you?”

This veered eerily close to flirting, and God, I was tempted. After all, what was one more time in the grand scheme of things? Except, right—if this really went through, we’d be seeing a lot of each other. It hadn’t stopped me before, but now that I was starting to…not dislike him anymore? Bad idea.

“Or,” I said lightly, “in this case, they bring the drinks. It’s five o’clock somewhere, so let’s find a pub.”

Adam’s smile dimmed but didn’t fade entirely. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

The Red Lion pub served expensive drinks in a historic, slightly cramped setting. Should have expected a pub this close to Downing Street and the parliament to come with poor value for money.

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